


Stand Your Ground

by RamPant27



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abusive Bro, Abusive Crabdad, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fighting, First Meeting, Fluff, Highschool AU, Humanstuck, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Panic Attack, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stalking, These tags sound rough but its not really that dark, breif violence, negative self talk/self hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24640960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamPant27/pseuds/RamPant27
Summary: Surely anybody within sight of this would have stepped in, said something to stop it. Be the hero. Karkat isn’t that kind of guy.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 8
Kudos: 88





	Stand Your Ground

**Author's Note:**

> So i wrote this oneshot while im between chapters on my other Davekat fic.
> 
> There is some negative self talk about PTSD symptoms in this. I wanna remind you that PTSD does not make you weak. Its a defense mechanism against what at one time was serious danger to your mind/body. There is nothing wrong with experiencing PTSD. If you’re struggling you should seek professional help.
> 
> Love you guys, hope you enjoy this.

Karkat sank down to his knees, shuffling forward. He brought his arms up to rest on the hot metal platform that came up to his neck.

The position was awkward, it left pale dirt on the knees of his dark jeans, but he maintained it all the same. The stains started appearing a few weeks ago, along with his new after school habit. Obnoxiously, that happened to correlate with the week after the new kid appeared in his biology class.

People at school were obsessed with the new guy.

Everything about him seemed to be tailored to draw attention. His face was set in a permanently unreadable expression. His hair was a stark and shocking white that naturally drew glances by itself. He wore dark, costly looking shades over his eyes like some kind of celebrity in a poorly thrown together disguise. His jeans were riddled with holes nothing like the ones designers tore into fabric with intention. They were either slashes that lined up with thick scars in his skin underneath, or scrapes at strange angles on his thighs. Most of his shirts seemed expensive, but were frayed and faded as if he’d run them through the wash one too many times. They all had unsteady lines of stitching running through them in sloppy repair jobs. The kid roused interest no matter where he went.

Now, Karkat wasn’t all that privy to rumours. He had a tendency to stay out of dramatic incidents. However, when those rumours started involving himself he figured he should be paying more attention.

It didn’t take long to figure out what the problem was.

Karkat got caught with his eyes on the new kid one too many times. The new kid got caught in a mess of his own suggestive ramblings one too many times.

It didn’t help diminish any stories that the stains on Karkat’s knees made it look like he’d been bent over in the dirt, or that he yelled insults at anyone who dare insinuate he’d ever be involved with that shithead.

Karkat was appalled when he saw the same kids that had cornered him needling the new guy. The new kid opened his mouth and a rambling, aggravatingly narcissistic explanation of how irresistible he is tumbled out. Karkat felt secondhand anxiety itching at his skin just watching that unfold.

Needless to say, the other students had quickly gone from intrigued to antagonistic within the first few days of class. His narcissism was obnoxious, his rambling was idiotic, and his insistence that Karkat was hopelessly attracted to him had slurs thrown around just as often as his name.

Karkat watched as attacks were thrown by aggressive offenders and retaliations by a single defender.

He was hidden by both the shade of the school bleachers and the fact that no one expected anyone to be hidden where he was. Surely anybody within sight of this would have stepped in, said something to stop it. Be the hero.

Karkat isn’t that kind of guy.

A girl from Karkat’s Spanish class had the new kid’s wrists pinned behind him while an older boy slammed a fist into his ribs.

The new kid ducked his head.

Karkat smiled into his crossed arms.

The new guy slammed his head backwards, colliding with the girl’s nose and shattering her glasses against her skull.

A deafening shriek was wrenched from her throat. She dropped the new kids wrists in favour of clutching the bleeding gash in her eyebrow. Blood that gleamed in the afternoon sun dripped from her nose and lined her teeth. It coated her chin in seconds.

The older boy grunted in shock, pulling a fist back to swing at the new kid. He sidestepped the punch easily, throwing his weight to one side and shoving the boy to the ground.

Karkat crawled out from his spot, getting to his feet. He’d been watching these fights long enough to know when they were over. He didn’t need to look to know the new kid had run in theopposite direction of where Karkat had been hiding.

Karkat bent down to grab his bag, not bothering to dust off his knees.

“Enjoy the show?“

A voice spoke, Karkat spun to face the source of the sound. Thick rimmed shades stared back. Looking into them was eerie, like staring into the lifeless eyes of a bug.

“That’ll be eleven ninety-nine with the student discount.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,”

Karkat grumbled defensively,

“That was as impressive as watching raccoons fight over a month old shit covered bagel bite.”

He spat, with no intention of hiding his startled aggravation,

“The most obnoxious raccoon wins, chokes to death on the shit bagel and harasses innocent bystanders from the grave. I’d say less impressive more mind numbingly stupid. Vomit inducing at best.”

Those shades unnerved Karkat enough to keep his rant far more succinct than usual.

The new kid’s blank face never wavered,

“All I caught was ‘ _impressive_ ’ and ‘ _bagel_ _bite_ ’.”

Karkat rolled his eyes hard. The new kid ignored him,

“So, whats up? You got that eleven ninety-nine? Cuz I’m not backing off without it. I dont do this shit for free bro, a man’s got bills to pay.”

Karkat furrowed his eyebrows,

“Seriously? You’re trying to take my money. Did you think I’d be intimidated or something? By a fifty pound rat faced rich kid?”

The guy shrugged,

“Whatever gets the good shit in my pocket and the angry bleacher dwelling goblins down twelve dollars.”

Karkat’s annoyance grew, but he wasn’t the same whining thirteen year old he’d been years ago. He took a mental step back, looking this kid up and down.

_Why would he ask for money?_

_Why would he be that desperate?_

Karkat knew why immediately. He’d watched each and every one of those fights. He’d seen the ribs showing through his shirt. He cursed himself for his idiocy.

Karkat reached into his back pocket for his wallet, but faltered. He chewed his lip,

“Come on.”

He nodded towards the parking lot,

“Let’s go to fuckin’ Olive Garden or something.”

The new kids eyebrows rose above his shades,

“Wow, colour me whatever colour looks the most blown out of the goddamn water, kidnapping a celebrity in broad daylight? I never thought you were the type, but I guess I should expect shit like this from my stalker.”

“Shut the fuck up,“

Karkat groaned,

“if I were gonna kidnap anyone I’d pick a sane human being with the ability to show the massacred lumps of blood I used to call eardrums some fucking mercy.”

“Well thats the most reassuring thing I’ve ever heard, lead the way law abiding citizen.”

Karkat tilted his head incredulously. This kid seemed genuinely intent on going along with this.

“For some reason I expected more bullshit rambling, but I guess this is a mediocre turn of events.”

“Hell yeah man let’s get all up in this mediocrity. I’ll pull a solid seventy in all my classes, go home to my white suburban heterosexual wife n’ kids if that’s what it takes to get my hands on those unlimited breadsticks.”

The kid walked alongside him as he lead the way to his beat up truck,

“I’ll play sports with my cisgender son. I’ll do it all for Olive Garden.”

Karkat slid into the drivers seat, and the kid climbed in on the passengers side.

“So I change the course of your life from a idiotically self proclaimed celebrity to an unbelievably bland stereotype and I dont even know your fucking name?”

The kid smirked in the most expressive way Karkat had seen so far. He felt an unexpected rush of excitement at that, a need to push further, to crack that stone face.

“Okay that was smooth as shit I’ll give you that. Five stars, goddamn. The names Dave.”

Karkat slid the keys into the ignition,

“I guess that explains why I didn’t remember it.”

He shrugged,

“Disappointingly bland as fuck. Barely a step above _John Smith_.”

Dave nodded as if he completely agreed,

“See, thats where the irony kicks in man, a pretty lame name for a hella sick dude.It comes back around n’ makes the name sick as fuck by association. Im so fuckin’ unbelievably cool but you’d never even know it from the title.”

Karkat snorted as he pulled the truck out of the parking lot,

“Or alternatively nothing comes back anywhere and you look like an obnoxious fucking douchebag.”

Daves eyebrows quirked up along with the corner of his mouth in Karkat’s carefully observant periphery. Dave actually looked like he was enjoying this. That threw Karkat for a loop.

People don’t exactly enjoy talking to him. It just doesn’t happen. Sure, he has a few friends that have told him they find his blunt responses refreshing, but never enjoyable. He noticed himself smiling more on this ride than he had all week.

Karkat eased on the breaks, turning into the parking space.

“So do I get your name? Or have I not earned that privilege yet? Do I need to woo you with some ill beats and fuck- what do people woo people with? You want flowers? One of those tiny clip on flower things? A _corsage_? Am I saying that right?”

Karkat rolled his eyes,

“Jesus _Christ._ ”

“Yeah I’ll be honest that one was messy. But hey, I got a name, didn’t know the lord and saviour himself was treating me to dinner, I would’ve worn a less blood covered shirt.”

Karkat looked down. Sure enough, a candy red splatter decorated the whitematerial on his shoulder. Some of it had soaked through the fabric over his ribs, right where the older boy had been laying into him. How did Karkat not notice that shit.

“Fuck, we should get that cleaned up. I’m a fucking moron, I didn’t even think about your fucking injuries.”

Dave waved him off,

“So?”

He questioned expectantly,

“Got a title that isn’t ‘ _Jesus Christ_ ’ or ‘ _Fucking Moron’_?”

He sighed in annoyance,

“I’m Karkat.”

“Damn, thats metal as fuck.”

————

Whoever invented the phrase ‘ _Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth_ ’ didn’t have Daves survival instinct.

He wasn’t about to let his guard down just because this kid was offering a free meal. Especially this kid in particular.

This guy had existed just out of Dave’s sight for the first three weeks of school, which was fine. He wasn’t a part of any of the groups Dave had been introduced to. He wasn’t in any of the clubs Dave had joined before quickly abandoning. Which was all normal.

It was only thanks to his paranoid observations that he knew about this kid at all. He was hyperaware of any glances or camera lenses aimed in his direction.

The problem was that this guys eyes were on Dave constantly ever since the fights started, and that had alarms going off in his head.

This staring thing was quickly getting out of hand, it had graduated to stalking. He had to take control of this situation, but it wasn’t as if he could stop the fights that had clearly caught this guy’s attention. Antagonists just sought him out.

The fights themselves didn’t take long to become a regularly scheduled after school occurrence.

The problem began a few days into the school year, when some kids had confronted him about his romantic relationships. Specifically his relationship with some kid he’d never heard of. Dave left them with a classic ‘ _I’m just so goddamn hot the dude just can’t keep his eyes off me, dont blame him, it’s only natural to want a slice.’_

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

He caught the attention of every sexually repressed asshole in range. Drawing them to him like rampaging homophobic moths to a bi curious flame.

He wasn’t about to pretend to be something he isn’t to appease a bunch of high school kids. Dave wasn’t that kind of guy. Though he wasn’t about to serve as a punching bag either.

No matter how fruitlessly his younger self had tried to convince him he could be, Dave isn’t a natural born fighter. All of the beatings his brother called ‘training’ would never change that. He was never going to be as fast or as relentless as his brother. It just wasn’t in him. Dave is something far better.

He’s a defender.

Yeah, he’ll never be like his brother. He used to think of that as his biggest weakness, but now he knows it’s the best goddamn thing about him.

He’ll defend his right to his identity, and he’ll defend himself against whatever this stalker has planned.

Maybe he’ll even get some good lunch money out of him if he plays his cards right.

At least thats what he thought.

When he was offered a ride to Olive Garden in his stalker’s old pickup the alarm bells roared to life in his head once again.

But there was something about the way the kid reached for his wallet, but hesitated. His teeth sunk into that unreasonably plush lower lip. He looked Dave up and down, and his eyes landed on his ribs. Dave glanced down so he might figure out what was so eye catching. Aside from the blood soaking through to his shirt, there was nothing there.

He looked up at the kid, and his face was full of something that was there one second and gone the next. Dave recognized it though, pity.

A stalker who’d watch Dave catch more attacks than he could possibly throw without any kind of intervention, and still look at him with sympathy. A stalker who genuinely seemed to want to treat him to Olive Garden. A stalker Dave could definitely take in a fight.

If he wasn’t so stressed in this situation he might’ve laughed at it’s ridiculousness.

He could lie and say he didn’t know what possessed him to get in this guys truck, but he knew exactly what it was, and it was pretty pathetic.

He’d just moved to a new state. No friends, no family worth celebrating. Just Dave and whoever threw the next punch. He was lonely. Unbearably lonely.

————

Karkat is uneasy looking across the table into the dark shades that covered most of Daves face.

Growing up in Karkat’s home meant learning to read the mood of the people that surrounded him, taking in every subtle hint. Knowing exactly when to get out of dodge. It was the key to avoiding yelling and fighting.

He knew that Dave wasn’t about to attack him in the middle of this restaurant, but he couldn’t convince his subconscious it was safe. Not when he couldn’t see Dave’s eyes. He’d never realized how much someones eyes factored into his ability to tell what was going on in their head. Until now, that is. When his capacity to gauge Dave’s frame of mind was torn away.

Karkat’s paranoia kept his insults more tame than usual. His instincts telling him to just comply, keep Dave happy.

So when Dave asked a question Karkat really didn’t want to answer, he had trouble saying no.

“So? You gonna let me in on whatever it was about this hot bod that had you creepin’ stalker style from the shadows like a cartoon villain? Or will you just laugh maniacally and monologue it to me instead?”

Karkat tensed, shrinking down in his seat to make himself smaller,

“I just like fights.”

“Yeah, mmhm, makes sense.“

Dave’s eyebrows raised,

“The cowering and avoiding eye contact really sold that story. I’ll get right to signing that cheque, my life savings handed over for what was the most goddamn believable performance I’ve ever fucking seen. Oh, looks like I don’t have a chequebook on me. Should I pick up your Tony on the way to the bank?”

Karkat sat up in his seat, growling a little too loudly,

“Shut the fuck up you patronizing pieceof shit-”

“Good afternoon boys!”

A voice cut him off in that overblown customer service tone,

“My name is Katelyn. Welcome to Olive Garden, may I take your order?”

Dave’s face, completely impassive, turned to face the waitress.

“My apologies ma’am, me and my friend over here are just takin’ a little longer to decide’s all.”

“Alrighty, I’ll swing by again later, take your time.”

Karkat glared aggressively at the boy sitting across from him.

Daves jaw was set. He reached up to his face and slid his shades off of his nose. He folded the arms and they disappeared below the table. Supposedly to a pocket out of Karkat’s sight.

Karkat had a full view of that face. Trained on him.

Dave’s irises burned like lithium under a flame. Red as blood and a gaze as sharp as a carving knife. A thick white scar that arched from his eyebrow and disappeared into his hairline stood out menacingly in warning, ‘ _I’ve faced dangers far greater than you could ever be.’_

Karkat seized with terror.

“Karkat.”

The tone was clipped, his name spoken like it was something Dave would carve into a bullet,

“I know you’ve been watching me every goddamned day.”

Red eyes. Red as blood.

Karkat’s heart was in his throat,

“I-“

“You know what I can do. I can fucking defend myself. What made you think I’d let this shit slide?”

Karkat’s hands gripped at his hair. He felt that familiar panic setting in. The threat of tears stung at his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

He rasped, shaking, his eyes pressed shut,

“Shit shit shit shit, I’m fucking sorry, I’m sorry.”

He felt like he was eight years old again,shrinking in fear at the sound of his father’s voice.

“I didn’t mean to, fuck, I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t crying. His father made sure he would never resort to that. He pulled his head down by his hair, trying to disappear.

“Shit dude.”

Daves voice was back to normal,

“Uh.”

Soft and stupid and rambling and smiling. Giving Karkat whiplash.

“ _Fuck_ , breathe man, breathe.”

Was all the joking around before just a front hiding this? Dave hated him. He hated Karkat and he fucking deserved it. _Fuck_.

Something cold pressed up against Karkat’s arm. He jolted violently.

“Come on man, drink. It’s all cool. _Shit_ , I didn’t think..”

Karkat pried his eyes open. Dave was standing over him. The shades were back over his face, and he was holding out a glass of water.

Karkat reached out a hand hesitantly, afraid to let it leave the shelter of his body, afraid Dave would take the water away before he got to it. Shaking and afraid.

Dave passed the cup into his hands, he took a tentative sip.

Dave let out a shuddering sigh. Karkat tried not to flinch.

“I’m sorry dude. This day was actually going okay ‘till I went all ‘ _don’t try me bitch_ ’ on you.”

“No,”

Karkat shook his head feverishly,

“No you’re just. You’re fine. You’re just keeping a stalker from following you home and fucking, kidnapping you or whatever.”

He let out a breathless laugh,

“I’m being fucking stupid.”

Dave’s eyebrows furrowed,

“Dude that looked like a full on panic attack from where I’m standing. I have an insane unlicensed psychologist for a cousin, I pick up some stuff.”

He slid back into his seat across from Karkat,

“I think that falls pretty solidly in the ‘ _Not Even a Little Fucking Stupid_ ’ category.”

Karkat shrugged,

“Fine, but you’re still definitely entitled to defend yourself from a stalker.”

Dave shrugged.

They lapsed into silence.

“So.”

Dave mumbled before clearing his throat,

“You don’t seem like the life threatening stalker type. Do you wanna let me know why you were watching me? I wont get pissed, I swear. I know what that shit does now and I’m not exactly up for round two.”

Karkat huffed a laugh,

“Uh, thanks.”

He scratched nervously at the back of his neck,

“It’s just fucking stupid.”

Dave raised his eyebrows,

“ _Oooooooh_.”

He leaned forward teasingly, propping his chin up on both of his hands,

“Karkitty got a celebrity crush? Again, don’t blame you.”

“Fuck off.”

He grumbled,

“No asswipe, it’s even more pathetic, trust me.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Fuck.”

Karkat shook his head,

”I’ve just been a stupid broken in the head pathetic little shit my whole goddamn life. I full body flinch when someone goes for a fucking high five. I’m just- I can’t fucking defend myself for shit.”

He glances up at Dave,

“Then you come along. You get the same homophobic bullshit I get, all the threats and beatings,”

He gestures to Dave with his hands, his voice picking up volume,

“but you can fucking _fight it._ It’s like watching a highlight reel of everything I could be if I got my idiotic whimpering head out of my ass. It’s fucking amazing.”

He couldn’t see Daves reaction, he just kept going,

“I was sitting under those bleachers like I have every day for the past way too many years and I hear some yelling n’ shit. I thought, ‘ _there goes another dumbass kid getting the shit kicked out of him.’_ but I watched, and you fucking _won_. I lost my goddamn shrivelled up husk of a mind.”

Dave let out a breathless laugh through his nose,

“Shit.”

A smile was pulling at the corners of his mouth,

“I almost beat up my biggest fan.”

“Oh _fuck off_.”

Dave was still smiling, and Karkat couldn’t help but smile back. His heart swelled in his chest.

“How ‘bout I teach you?”

Dave asked.

“I, What?”

Karkat spluttred.

“I’ll teach you to fight. It’ll be sick.”

Dave didn’t look like he was joking.

Karkat frowned,

“What if I? Ya know, turn into a squirming moron again?”

“Then we’ll figure shit out.”

Dave shrugged,

“I don’t know, I think it could work.”

Karkatsmiled.

“Fuck it. Why not?”

“Thats the spirit.”

“Are you boys ready to order?”

“Ah shit,”

Dave turned to the waitress,

“just a fuckton of breadsticks and uh,”

He grabbed the menu,

“Whatever a ‘ _zoodle_ ’ is, that sounds like a riot. Yeah, thats all we’re getting.”

“Alright, your food will be here shortly,”

“Thanks.”

Dave nodded.

“You’re a fucking catastrophe.”

Karkat couldn’t keep the smile off his face, he could finally learn to fight. He’d see that stupid blank face crack. He’d see Dave’s smile again and again. He felt light and full, and from the look on Dave’s face he wasn’t alone in that.

Neither of them were alone. Not Anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks 4 readn, I might consider continuing this once im done my other fic.
> 
> *searches for Olive Gardens in Texas* *selects ‘menu’*  
> The fucks a zoodle? sounds like a riot.


End file.
